Here’s my draft for today, Monday 05.13.19.
Hawaiʻi Sonnet 54
they tell me even the dead may be nourished
by the prayers of the living, and so you wane
skeleton thin and barely recognizable
your forehead, oblate, hair receding, falling out
makes your face seem the harvest moon’s
darker side, peculiar round the blade slit black edges
all odd shadow sprays, spook, you beseech arcane secrets
you’ve been too much apart for me to want to speak to you
now I prepare myself for morning, so you come to me
soul-shrinking spirit giving ground, you try to grasp my hand
shall come to pass the golden chain of ascendency ordained
but I don’t want to do there, man, not skyrocket with you
a strangering someone, to where everything you stand for
will crumble for eternity before a tidal wave of disbelief
